The children quite worshiped Uncle Max. He was their especial friend, from whom they had no secrets. His travels kept him away much of the time, and they seldom saw him more than once a year, but this seemed to make his visits the more appreciated, especially as he always brought them remembrances from the remotest parts of the world. Each time he came seemed a holiday to the children. To-night they were hurried to the table, where a steaming supper awaited them. The children's excitement over the uncle's coming abated somewhat before this enjoyment, for coasting always brought sharpened appetites. Miezi was industriously engaged with her soup when her father said: "I think my little girl has forgotten her papa to-night. I missed my usual kiss and handshake." Miezi instantly let her spoon drop and pushed her chair back to run to the neglected parent, but he stopped her with, "No, no, you need not trouble now." "I didn't mean to forget you, papa," she said. "We will make up for it after supper, Miezchen," said the father. "What did we christen the child, anyway?" he continued. "Wasn't it Maria?" "I was there when she was baptized," said Max, "but I cannot remember. It surely was not Miezchen." "Of course you were there," asserted his sister. "You were the child's godfather, and we called her Marie. It was papa himself who first called her Miezchen, and Otto made it still worse." "No, mamma, surely not worse," interposed Otto. "You see, Uncle Max, it is like this: if she is a good little girl I call her Miezchen; this she is so seldom, however, that I usually call her Miezi. When she is angry and looks like a little ruffled hen, I call her Miez." "And when Otto is angry, what does he look like?" inquired Uncle Max, addressing Miezi. Before she could think of a comparison, Otto answered, "Like a man!" They all laughed so heartily that Miezi stirred her soup violently in her confusion. Uncle Max tactfully changed the subject: "It has been over a year since I have seen you children, and I wish you would tell me what you have been doing while I have been away." Naturally the latest news was related first, and, in their eagerness to have Uncle Max know everything, both children wished to speak at once. Among other things they told of the fun they had in school, and that led Otto to tell about his experience with Chappi and Wiseli; how she had been driven into the snowdrift and rudely treated, and how, though she had no sled, she finally had had two rides on his. "That was right, Otto," said his father; "always take the part of the weak and the oppressed, and honor the meaning of your name. Who is this little girl you speak of?"